


Cut to the Feeling

by EnemyAnemone912



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnemyAnemone912/pseuds/EnemyAnemone912
Summary: Laura is in major crush with Danny Lawrence. And it's great. Everything is great.But one party, and the resulting community service, throws her in a direct crash course with Carmilla. Which is crazy.LaFontaine and Perry battle with their parents over their relationship, and Kirsch just wants to talk to Danny for more than a second.In essence, high school is absurd.





	1. Two Ordinary Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura likes Danny... And hates Carmilla.

Laura slips into the GSA meeting quietly, trying to avoid notice as she exaggeratedly tiptoes to the back of the room, sliding into an empty desk. Her efforts were for naught. The other three members of the GSA (who all, coincidentally, happened to be her best friends) cast pointed glances back at her for both being late to and disrupting their ritualistic viewing of the seminal lesbian classic, But I’m a Cheerleader. She winces, and mouths a quick sorry in LaFontaine’s direction, eyes stretching into abnormally round glimmers of light to try and sway her friend’s favor. Their lips quirk slightly, and they roll their eyes once before tossing the box of cookies back at Laura. They knew they wouldn’t be getting those back anytime soon. 

She wanted to protest that it wasn’t her fault that she was late, but she knew such claims would fall on deaf ears that would be only focused on the movie at the present moment. But still, it wasn’t like they could expect her to not take extra time allotted to work on a chem lab, right? They all should know by now just how much science is not her forte, and it’s not like she can pull a Perry and be able to study with LaFontaine 24/7. She sighs, and just plucks another cookie out. They’re her favorite too, thin and crunchy, covered with a layer of milk chocolate. In nearly record time (she finished a box of these in about thirty seconds once) she polishes off the bag, then leans back in her chair, watching as Graham lunges forward to kiss Megan outside The Cocksucker. As far as romance goes, it’s pretty charged. No matter how many times Laura has seen the movie, this moment never fails to bring butterflies fluttering into the pit of the stomach. She’s watched it so many times she can predict the beats of the kiss second by second but still… butterflies. 

Laura is transfixed on the scene, so much so that she doesn’t notice Danny slip back to the seat next to her. “Hey, any…” Danny checks the box, and groans in mock disgust. “Of course you ate all of them. I swear to god, you have the metabolism of like, a hummingbird.”

Laura leans in to whisper, “Actually, elephants have the fastest metabolism.”

“How do you know all of this, but you failed ecology last year?”

“I just like to keep up on pop culture. Is that so wrong?”

Danny shrugs, half-laughing at Laura’s remark, but not loudly enough for the couple at the front to notice and shoot them a patented Perry glare. Seriously, the girl could be terrifying when she wanted to be. And she always wanted what LaF wanted. It was a miracle they hadn’t been expelled for PDA yet; they were practically attached at the hip. Danny glances down, away from the movie, a frown covering her face as she bites her lip. Laura notices instantly, and her heart leaps, not understanding why Danny was acting broody all of a sudden. That’s the first thought on Laura’s mind. The second is to immediately make her feel better. So she lightly hip punches her. (She swears it was light.)

“Holy fuck!” That earns them a glare from LaFontaine and Laura literally becomes the shocked emoji, her mouth forming a complete “O” as she grabs Danny’s arm, babbling like a lunatic.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Danny, I swear that wasn’t intentional, I was just trying to be playful. I mean, you seemed upset, and now… Oh, god, do you need aspirin? Or stitches or magic or ambrosia?”

Danny rolls her eyes. “Dear lord, Laura, I’m fine. You just startled me. Also, I’m totally fine. I was just wondering…” She shakes her head suddenly, still rubbing her arm (which actually kind of hurts, but she’s not going to tell Laura that). “Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

“Danny, no matter what it is, I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

“Alright well: You know how the Summer Society runs Powder Puff football games at homecoming?” She doesn’t even wait for a response, since Laura literally has more school spirit than the entire rest of the sophomore class combined, and continues with her speech as she squints down at Laura in the darkness. “So this year we’re arranging a game against the Zeta Bros, cause frankly those “Bromeos” need to get a massive freaking dent in their egos, and we know we’re gonna win.”

Laura gasps, eyes going wide with excitement. “You want me to play? Cause, I know I don’t look it, but I’m a great running back.”

“Um, no.” Danny grimaces, trying to mask Laura’s disappointment with a reassuring touch on her knee. (C’mon Lawrence, you’ve got game. Use it.) “We’re throwing like, a peace party beforehand. I think it’s totally stupid, but you know, it was their idea and we’ve gotta make it seem like this entire thing was partially done by them. Anyway, are you in?” (Very smooth Lawrence. You’re doing great.)

Laura wrinkles her nose in this cute way, utterly confused by Danny’s meaning, in part because she’s been trying to pay attention to both Danny and the movie. Suffice it to say, she’s failing at both. “You want to invite me to a party?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. I’d never force a woman to do anything she wouldn’t want to. Consent isn’t a one way street.” Laura laughs a little, blushing as she takes in the meaning of the words, and Danny, looking into her eyes, laughs a little too. (Damn, her smile is contagious. She never thought a girl could literally be a ball of sunshine, but here Laura Hollis is, proving her wrong yet again.)

Laura grins once more. “I’d love to.” 

Danny blinks. “Really?”

“Totally. Nothing cooler than a party with upperclassmen, right?” Laura sees Danny’s face fall slightly, and she nudges her again. Laura can’t really bear to see anyone sad. It’s almost like a compulsion; she just has to make them feel better, though she has decided to take punching out of her arsenal. Her dad always said she was strong, but Laura never quite believed him until she had nearly choked Perry without realizing it. From then on, she had been careful. “But I mean, obviously, the coolest is hanging out with you.”

Danny laughs, relieved and lets her hand drop loosely in the space between them. “Perfect.” She turns back to the movie, noticing when Laura tentatively grabs her hand around five minutes later. It sends shivers up and down Danny’s spine, and she kind of hates how adorable she finds this girl who is a year younger and an entire foot smaller than she is. Danny doesn’t know if Laura feels the same, or if she’s just grabbing her hand because she feels bad about accidentally punching her earlier (it still hurts, though maybe she can milk that). She doesn’t care, though, why Laura is doing it. All that matters is that they are holding hands while watching Clea Duvall and Natasha Lyonne make out, as their good friends sit in front of them, unaware of anything going on. Danny can’t help but think that this might be the greatest feeling in her life. She’s going to have Laura Hollis come to her house for a party. Who knows what else could happen?

For Laura’s part, she takes Danny’s hand because she doesn’t know what she feels for Danny, but she knows there’s something. Friendship: definitely. Something more: probably. She has had a crush on Danny since freshman year, when the insanely tall, nigh on Amazonian girl had been the only one to tell her where her classes were located. She feels the shiver move through Danny when she takes the taller girl's hand, and a jolt goes through Laura. A small, buoyant smile, the kind that makes fairies grow their wings and little babies giggle, crosses her face. This is good. She likes this. In fact, she has a strong urge to learn over and kiss Danny right now. LaFontaine and Perry (who are totally making out right now) wouldn’t even notice. Still, Laura just focuses on the movie, and ignores the insanely lean, and probably limber, girl next to her. There’s this party. Laura decides, with all the confidence of a sophomore out of their league, in that instant, that she’s going to make out with Danny at the party. She can already see their relationship playing out: dates at coffee shops and sushi restaurants, Laura cheering Danny on at basketball and volleyball, Danny pinning up Laura’s articles above her bed. It would be perfect, just like Buffy and Angel before he lost his soul. 

Plan set, Laura turns back to the movie, smiling happily at the prospect of a long happy life with Danny (she can’t help it that she likes to bring her fantasies a step further). Of course, for this dream to work, it would involve her and Danny coming out to their parents, which she’s not sure will ever happen. Sherman Hollis is a nice guy, but he’s… a traditionalist. He made her take Krav Maga, for Pete’s sake. She can’t know for sure that he’d be okay with it. After what happened with Perry’s parents, she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. 

Of course, Laura should’ve been paying more attention in eighth grade when they read most of the works of John Steinbeck. She had been mostly distracted with reading a bunch of gothic vampire novels. Anyway, she should have been thinking of Steinbeck in that moment, because the best laid plans often go ary. In fairness, it wasn’t her fault that her big plan went astray. It was all due to stupid Carmilla Karnstein. Holy Doctor, she hated that girl. 

\----------------------------

Carmilla was not in a GSA meeting. Carmilla, despite her prolific dating history of nearly every girl in school, would not be caught dead in a GSA meeting. Her mother would skin her alive, and then probably fry the skin, and feed it to Will just to torment her in the afterlife. To say that Carmilla was banned from any form of self expression was an understatement. All her life, she had been hearing one thing about her personal life: she was not allowed to have one. Girlfriend, boyfriend; if anything leaked to the press, the optics, she was told, would be terrible. And when Mother runs a Fortune 500 company, bad optics are probably the worst thing she can go through.

Normally, if anyone told Carmilla she was banned from doing something, she took it as an open invitation. However, Mother was different. Consequences would always be meted out, debts always paid. In fact, if Mother revealed that they were related to Tywin Lannister, Carmilla wouldn’t be surprised. Mattie always did have a scary resemblance to Cersei, after all. 

So, where was Carmilla? In her usual spot, curled up in the corner of the library under the thick volumes of Kipling, reading Kant. She found him a little dull, and very dry, but he was the type of philosopher to easily dissuade any student who might happen upon her and want to strike up conversation. It worked every time. Except of course, on that irritating sophomore, but that cupcake seemed like she tried to be the exception to everything, and frankly, it pissed Carmilla the hell off. 

It had been what, three days ago, when Carmilla had been minding her own business, tossing a pen up into the air mindlessly as she read, when the pen went flying across the stacks. She paid it no mind, trying to remind herself to pick it up when she left, though she knew in her mind she wouldn’t. Why would you waste energy on doing something so mundane? Two minutes later, the girl (who was wearing such a bright yellow that it hurt Carm’s eyes) came over, holding a pen.

“Um, hi. I think this is yours?” She held it out to Carmilla, who took it, flipping her shades down to try and mask the light hitting her eyes from the shirt.

“It is. You trying to blind the entire library, Cupcake?” 

She blushed bright red, and glanced down self consciously at her shirt. “My name’s Laura.” She tried to say it angrily, but the strange motion she did in conjunction with the words, some sort of flapping of her hands, caused Carmilla to chuckle. 

“Of course it is.” Carmilla turned back to her book, sunglasses remaining on. This was the clear signal for the girl (was she a freshman?) to scram, but Laura stayed put, feet firmly fixed. She cocked an eyebrow up at the brownie, “You’re not in my grade, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Carmilla could tell the girl was trying to answer diplomatically. It was sort of impressive that she was remaining here for so long under Carmilla’s withering glare. 

“Go figure. I knew there couldn’t be such a tiny cupcake in my grade.”

“My name is Laura! And you still haven’t thanked me for getting your pen, which I didn’t have to do, by the way. And there’s no need for you to be so rude, and you know, you should be nicer to people who are trying to be nice while you sit her and act pretentious.”

“Big words there from a freshman. Thanks for the psychoanalysis.” Carmilla turned back to her book, confident that those words would either make Laura leave, or her head explode. Maybe both. 

“Oh… Just oh!” Laura stormed away, hands balled up in tiny fists and Carmilla chuckled before she turned back to her book. It was entertaining to make people hate her. A good way to pass the time. In fact, she almost regretted making Laura go away so soon. She seemed like she could let out some steam underneath that neon migraine of a shirt. 

She filed away the information on Laura: Sophomore. Short. Cupcake. Likes color, and probably sunshine. Hates it when people don’t call her by her name. Never call her by her name. Maybe she should be reading Sartre next time. Or Jung. If Laura had thought she was pretentious today…

Her phone buzzes, jolting her out of the enjoyable memory of irritating a girl. “Will.”

“Kitty, where are you? The car’s here.”

“What event is Mother Dearest dragging us to tonight?”

“Something fucking stupid with the mayor.”

“Hey. Language. Only I’m allowed to be the rebellious terrible one.” She bites her lip, hoping Mattie isn’t eavesdropping on this call, like she sometimes does. If Mother finds Will swearing, he could get hurt and… she has to protect him. He’s only a freshman, after all, and a complete idiot to boot. 

“Oddly self aware of you.”

“Shut up. I’ll be down in a moment.” She tucks her Sartre into her empty bag (it’s not like she goes to classes) and gets up, exiting through the computer lab. She catches Laura glaring at her from over a monitor, so she winks and watches Laura’s face go completely red, reliving the previous humiliation at Carmilla’s hands. She smirks, laughing to herself, as she walks out. This is going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all wanna read more. Leave a comment, or don't, if you want.


	2. Laf and Perry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Misgendering, abusive language

LaFontaine dreads going home each day. Not because they dislike their parents, or they find the living arrangement unsuitable. No, they hate going home because they can’t stand being away from Perry for so long. 14 whole hours away from their shining, radiant, perfect partner. Just the thought turns their stomach and sends chills down their spine. (Of course, they know they’ll be texting all through the night, but still, it’s not the same.) They try to blast They Might Be Giants on the way home, preparing to not see Perry as they try to focus on chemistry, or something. Even science dims compared to Perry.

They kiss her goodbye under the twilight of the parking lot, pausing to take in her curls, glowing in the darkness. She smells (and tastes) like snickerdoodles, and her sweater is soft and warm and perfect. She runs her hands through their hair, and they blush feeling her light fingertips brushing over the back of their neck. After two years of dating they still feel high when they touch her. Admittedly, they had only done weed once before deciding the detriments to the brain wasn’t worth it, but they knew what being buzzed felt like and it couldn’t compare to Perry. Her hands wrap around theirs, her face the picture of sainthood as she gazes into their eyes.

“LaFontaine? Is something wrong?” 

“Science says that nothing with me is ever wrong when you’re here, Perr.” She laughs, high and clear, the bell-like note ringing directly into LaFontaine’s brain and making her head swoon. They grin, freckles gleaming under the sheen of a blush. “And that’s the honest truth.”

She curls herself into their body, and they sway for a moment, ending up leaning against their rickety old pickup truck. They got it for their fifteenth birthday, and was told by their dad that they had a year to make it drivable again. Now, they didn’t quite understand how they had managed to resuscitate it, but somehow the thing drove like a dream. It was kinda an apt metaphor for how they had managed to win Perry over. (It helped that she had apparently been desperately in love with them.)

“Aren’t you the charmer.” Perry giggles, pressing a chaste kiss on their cheek that sets the skin underneath on fire. They hope she doesn’t notice, but Perry is more concerned with whatever was on her mind before. “You wouldn’t mind giving me a ride home, right?”

Their face falls, and they laugh nervously, their hands dropping straight down to their sides. “Perr, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know you don’t like to go there, and I don’t either, but…” She bites her lip, and they know that even though it’ll kill them to enter that space, even to say hi to those people, they’ll do it. They’ll do anything when Perry gives them those puppy dog eyes. And the frantic rambling. It’s sorta the most adorable thing in the world. “My mom is working late tonight, and Danny’s off with that Zeta trying to organize the game, and Laura can’t even drive, so the options are limited. And you won’t even have to talk to him if you don’t want.”

They breathe, nodding slowly, trying to open their hands, now curled into fists. Their hand meets Perry’s, and she smiles. They muster up a slow half-smirk. “You won’t abandon me to the devil?” It’s a weak attempt at humor, and they both know it. She shakes her head firmly, index finger tracing calming circles on their palm.

“Never.” Cthulhu, she’s gorgeous. Totally worth it, no matter what the cost. Perry was worth it. They helped her into the car, making dorky ‘my lady’ jokes, and then having to explain how that was not anti-feminist. They clamber into the seat on the driver’s side and start it, cackling as she yelps out, grabbing on tightly to their hand as they shift gears. Perry had forgotten how much LaFontaine’s car scared her, though she didn’t doubt their scientific genius.

The closer they get to Perry’s house, the more nervous they feel. The only thing that kept them from driving in the opposite direction was Perry’s hand on theirs and the idea of leaving Perry alone, which was worse than any torture that man could think up. They pull up in front of the small, one-story brick house, and the only positive thing they can think of was that at least their truck fits right into the neighborhood. Perry turns to them, and kisses them quickly, a faint brushing of lips, no more. Still, it makes them smile, and lean in for more as Perry hops out of the car, sighing in relief that she made it one piece. “I swear, LaFontaine, you should really get this thing checked out. I can’t imagine that it passes any health codes.”

“Perry, this beauty is pure science. Science doesn’t obey health codes.” She rolls her eyes, blows them a kiss and then goes into the house. They’re just about to roll out, a weight lifted from their chest when Perry steps back outside with her father. The weight comes back in full force as they roll down the window, plastering a fake smile wide across their face.

“Thanks for taking her, Susan. And I like the truck. Make her accustomed to a good, old-fashioned country boy in the future, you know?” He laughs heartily, pulling Perry close despite her shying away. They laugh hollowly, their left hand squeezing the door handle just out of his sight. 

“Of course, Mr Perry.” The words feel like they are leaving someone else’s mouth. It feels wrong to call this man, whose breath reeks of alcohol and abuse all the time, the same thing they call their partner. To call him the same word they say while smiling, content, and in love. It feels like a bastardization of their love, so they squeeze harder. They meet Perry’s eyes and she grimaces. They know she’s sorry: sorry for making LaFontaine go through with this torture, sorry that they can’t just yell “Fuck you” and drive away, sorry that they can’t be together. 

He smiles wider, reaching into the car to ruffle their hair, and it makes them want to go bald. “I knew you’d understand, Susan.” They want to scream and punch and kick; they can feel the door handle cutting into their palm now. “Say, want to come to church this Sunday? Might instill the love of god into ya.”

They snap, at least as far as they are allowed to before the hatred burning in Perry’s eyes for her father gets transferred at them for causing her more hurt. “I already have a commitment Sunday, sorry.”

“What’s that?”

 

They want to say that their commitment will be making out with his daughter, combined with some light cuddling and maybe baking for next week’s GSA meeting. Instead, they respond, “Science. My one true god, if you will.”

He frowns, withdrawing his hand coldly. “Right.” His gaze softens ever so slightly, and they want to punch themselves for not completely hating him in that moment, for thinking for a single instant that maybe he actually cares for Perry. “Well, you’re always welcome here, Susan, so long as you make sure Lola does well in uh… What is it?”

Perry speaks quietly. “Chemistry.”

He snaps. “Right, right, chemistry. Help her with chemistry.”

They nod, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible, ignoring all the great sexual puns that just sprang to their mind. “Of course. I better be off for dinner. See you, Perr.” She manages a hesitant smile at LaFontaine around her father, and they smile back. Even when they’re pissed, she somehow manages to make things a little bit better. They drive away, using their right hand since their left is oozing blood, and if she gets any in the car Perry might never ride in it again. They drive home in silence, never managing to muster up the energy to turn on their music. It wouldn’t cheer them up anyway. 

They pull into their driveway, but they don’t get out of the car, like they probably should, to go and clean up their hand. They just sit in the night, as crickets chirp around them. There is nothing to mask the sound of the sobs when they come, wracking and harsh. They are the sobs that are uncontrollable, that seem to never end until they do, unexpectedly, the way they came. LaFontaine sits there for fifteen minutes, the tears working out the tension and the pit in their stomach that formed from that name. They can’t even think it, it drives them that crazy. At least today there was no comment about the hair, or the button down shirt. 

Through the silence, as they wipe away the tears, the text message is even louder. They pull their phone out, and even through the pain, manage a smile. It’s a text from Perry. {I’m so sorry. I love you, LaF.} Just the use of the name that they chose makes them feel ten times better. 

{Id walk through fire for u Perr. Dont u forget it.}

{I won’t. And use proper spelling, it’s unseemly! :) }

They chuckle, shaking their head as they type. {We always have this argument. U cant make me :) } There’s no response, because the clock just flips to 7:30 and Perry is now gone to the cesspool that is her daily dinnertime conversation. They step wearily out of the car, and enter their house. She’ll call once she’s done. 

Their mother is furious, though when they explain the circumstances she understands. They think it makes them look badass, like they just got into a fight. It’s a light joke for the situation, but that’s just how they roll. They go upstairs, shower (the hot water really hurts, though the wound isn’t as bad as they had thought) and put on comfy Iron Man pyjamas. They try to do homework, but this really just becomes a game they call “Waiting for Perry”. It doesn’t happen when it’s supposed to, and they start getting concerned. When their phone finally does ring, it’s Danny.

“Hey, LaF.” They sigh. From Danny’s tone, it’s clear she wants something.

“What, Danny? I’m busy.” Danny is silent, and they can basically see her nonplussed expression. “Okay, fine, I’m not. But Perry’s going to call any second (Please let her call any second), so be quick.”

“You can make someone throw up, right?”

 

They grin. Okay, this is interesting. (Perry’s still on their mind, because she’s always there, and they just pray to the god of science that she’s okay.) “Depends on how long I have, and why.”

“The Summers want a special drink to make the Zetas sick at the party the night before so they’ll lose.” LaF starts to laugh. They didn’t take Danny for a cheater. As if sensing what they mean, Danny jumps back in. “It wasn’t my idea, I’m just doing my job as a junior member of the club. It was Mel. Her stupid rivalry with Theo has apparently reached this level.”

“How much stuff do you need me to make?”

Danny seems surprised that they are actually interested in doing it, but starts talking again. “Just like, a couple drops. We’re gonna spike the Zeta’s special keg that they insist on drinking from before the game. It’s some ridiculous, probably date rape-y tradition. We spike it, no one else gets hurt.”

“And the party is when?”

“Next Thursday. The Powder Puff is Friday afternoon, homecoming game Friday night, homecoming dance Saturday.”

“So I’ve got a week and a half? Easy. I’ll do it on one condition.”

Danny answered immediately. “Anything you want.”

“Perry and I get to go to the party.”

Danny laughs. “I was going to invite you two anyway.”

They grin mischievously. “To disguise your date with Laura?” Danny seems to blanche over the phone. “We have eyes, you know. I thought you’d be smoother.” Danny audibly rolls her eyes, and hangs up after swearing them out. Their phone rings again, and they answer, “Perr?”

“I can’t talk for very long. Are you alright?”

 

“Perr, don’t worry about me. You’re late to our call… Is it your dad?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you tomorrow. I’m fine, LaFontaine. He didn’t hurt me, Sweetie.”

“Oh-okay. I love you Perr.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.” Perry hangs up abruptly and they’re left alone. They don’t sleep that night. They’re too worried about Perry to be able to rest at the thought of what could have happened.

\-----------

Perry’s night went downhill the moment she watched LaFontaine pull away from the curb. Her father was fine for a while, but he exploded over dinner. Her mother was late, and when she came, she was greeted by a barrage of insults and abuse.

“Why the fuck are you late, huh? Why are you late? The dinner’s cold because of you. All this work I put in, day in and day out, and you can’t even respect this family enough to come back on time?” She tried to explain about traffic, and a late shift at the hospital (Perry wanted to scream that she was saving lives), but both women’s thoughts were shut down instantly. “Just sit so we can say grace.”

Perry never prayed for God to bless this food. She prayed that it would get stuck in her father’s throat, and that he would choke, but not die. She prayed that her mother would save his life, and he’d be able to appreciate the good work she did, and then maybe that he would let Perry do what she wanted. She hoped today would be the day that God listened. 

She didn’t believe, like LaFontaine did, that her parents were bad people. She thought they had been led astray by fundamentalists who had never read the Bible in its entirety, and who preached exactly the wrong kinds of messages. Perry, for her own part, quite like the Bible. She found solace in the messages of hope and love for all your neighbors, and she thought that if the Bible was actually read the way it was meant, maybe she and LaFontaine could be able to hold each others hands in the street and not get strange looks. Maybe, her parents would even restrain themselves from calling each other and LaFontaine names.

Still, that day was not today, for her father gave her a long look after some moment of silence, and then said, “Why do you think Susan cut her hair like that, Lola? Think she wants to look like a dyke?”

 

She swallowed her bile along with her meatloaf. She looked up, directly into his eyes, and said slowly, “I think LaFontaine has their own reasons.”

Her father rolled his eyes, and took a large bite of his meatloaf. Her mother seemed ready to jump into the argument as well, though she didn’t know whose side she would take. “I think those reasons are dyke reasons.”

“I mean, honey,” her mother added in softly, “if she cut her hair like that she must have known what people were going to think. Maybe that’s what she wants people to think. She’s practically broadcasting that she’s one of those people. I don’t know why you spend time with her.”

Breathe. Focus on the handsome person who loves you and not the hate emanating from their mouths. Focus on the smell of air freshener, and freshly baked brownies and lavender. Focus on the way LaFontaine tries to make their hair stand up with product, and the way it falls down halfway through the day into their eyes. It doesn’t work. She’s back in the present and there is nowhere to go to escape this

“LaFontaine…” She starts, but then is cut off by her parents at the same time.

“Susan.”

“LaFontaine is my friend! And it doesn’t matter what happens to their hair, or their clothes, they will remain my friend. And because LaFontaine is my friend, I would like you not to use that word.” She stares at the two of them, a mixture of anger and fear in her eyes.

“Lola.” Her father’s voice is harsh, and danger is behind it. “Go to your room.”

She left immediately, running up to her room and frantically pulls out the Meyer Lemon cleaning spray. She starts to clean. Her room, already immaculate, looks like an Ikea showroom. This is the one thing she can control. She cleans when everything else is spiraling out of control, and the compulsion becomes the only thing she can think about. She hears a pounding at her door, and the yelling of her father about how he’s going to call a priest about LaFontaine. She doesn’t listen. 

She remembers to call LaFontaine, though she knows that her father is out the door, so she speaks softly. After she hangs up, she opens the door, scared of what she might find. She tries to block out the words that come next, but they sting and slice her flesh more than any wound could. She’s left trembling on the floor, her father reassuring her mother in the other room that this only strengthens their stance on ‘the homosexuals’. 

Perry cleans until the sun comes up. She still doesn’t feel any better until her mother drops her off the next morning in front of school, and she runs into LaFontaine’s arms. They pull her close (she notices the hand, but says nothing right now), and she buries herself in them. They are the only good thing in her life. Well, them and Laura. She can’t let them go. (She doesn’t know that most days LaFontaine thinks the exact same thing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I'm trying to write a little every day, and there'll be spurts of activity when I post.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoy, and stay awesome.


	3. Danny and Kirsch

After hanging up with Perry, Danny turns to the other problem that she had to deal with. Specifically, Kirsch. The boy was blowing up her phone, sending about twenty texts a minute, which wasn’t even including all the pictures of him with various Zetas. Ugh. They were literally the worst. Danny knew Mel had only decided to play the Zetas this year, instead of their usual rivalry with Glee Club, was that she had this weird sexual tension with Theo. They had been in this hate dance twirling about each other for Danny’s entire time with the Summers, and it was starting to outlive its welcome. Every event for the past six months had to involve the Zetas in some capacity. Mel spewed some crap about how, “It will establish our dominance over those brainwashed dude-bros!”, but then she’d go and spend all this time yelling at Theo. Danny was pretty sure it was a turn on.

Still, Danny didn’t have a weird arguing fetish. In her mind, the Zetas were the worst. The Zetas were, according to them, a leadership program that fosters young boys into becoming men. If that was true, then they’d be the male equivalent of the Summers, and Danny wouldn’t have a problem with them. Except for the fact that instead of teaching them to become gentlemen, the Zetas encouraged time honored traditions of ragers, hookups, and assaulting theater kids. Out of all the Zeta ‘lieutenants’, (how idiotic of a title was that, they weren’t even fit for the army) Kirsch was probably the best, but when you’re comparing bad to terrible, it’s not much of a compliment. At least he actually seemed to have a moral compass when it came down to the line, unlike his esteemed leader. Theo was probably a budding sociopath. Kirsch seemed to, in his dimwitted way, actually believe that they were doing something ‘cool’, and ‘brolike’. Theo just wanted to put it on his college application.

Danny sighs, running a hand through her mane of hair. Focus, Lawrence. She just needs to make this call, explain what’s happening to the numbskull, and then maybe she can do her calculus homework. Her phone beeps again, and she picks it up wearily. It’s a photo of Kirsch with a sophomore, whose name she thinks is Will, but she isn’t sure. She doesn’t know any sophomores except Laura, because honestly, why would she need any more? She barely tolerates her own junior class. Mostly, Danny just wants to get out of highschool, this freewheeling, bullshit patriarchal system. The caption on the photo is, ‘Call me!’ She glances at the clock, then shrugs. She might as well. From the looks of it, they’re throwing a traditional Monday night party, so her chances of getting a semi-sober Kirsch are lowering by the second. She dials his number. He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Danny! D-Bear? Can I call you D-Bear?” He’s practically yelling into her ear. She can hear music through the back of the phone, and she becomes aware that she’s been put on speaker as a couple more voices cry out iterations of, “Lawrence, will you go out with me?”

She tries to make her response as flat as possible. “No, no, and take me off speaker. Also, on a Monday night? Really Kirsch?” She tries breathing, realising that she’s already extremely irritated, but feels like it’s not going to work.

The phone suddenly becomes much quieter, though she does, in the last moments of the speakerphone, hear Kirsch telling them off. That makes her feel a little better about the general state of the world. “Sorry. The dudes are a little wild.” He pauses, yelling something about taking another shot. “And, hey, Zeta code says Captains shall not partake.”

“Didn’t know you could speak so eloquently, bro-head.”

“We read that uh… Beobab guy. He spoke like that.” Kirsch drops his voice, and put on a thick, definitely not Anglo-Saxon accent. It sounds vaguely like a cross between Russian and maybe Australian. So, nothing that had ever existed. “Dat was good kernen.”

Danny laughs shallowly, running her hand through her hair again. “So you can remember a direct quote, but not the actual book? That’s a new level of idiocy.” She shakes her head. This wasn’t helping either of them. Somehow, what had started as a two minute confirmation that the Zetas were in had turned into an actual conversation, albeit one with lots of insults. “Whatever. This isn’t helping either one of us. Are the Zetas in for the game?”

His voice leaps over the phone. “Of course! We’re always in to get close to some hotties.” She starts to open her mouth to yell at him about the comment, when he continues, “Not that we’d do anything. Zeta code.” She rolls her eyes. She can practically see him pounding his chest over the phone, and her thought is confirmed when a thump echoes through the speaker. 

“And you’re bringing your ‘ceremonial keg’ to the party before the game, right?”

“We never leave home without it. It’s in the Zeta charter.” For an institution that practically supported date-rape, they sure had a lot of rules that only Kirsch seemed to follow. At least he was a good guy. She couldn’t say the same for Theo. She felt like one day she might turn around and find Theo holding a knife to her throat. A little grin spread across her face at that. She’d just use to Summer Society self defense skills and take him out. 

“Well… Great. It’s settled. See you next Thursday, Kirsch.”

“See you, Danny!” He doesn’t hang up, so she lets out a groan of frustration, and hangs up on him, tossing the phone onto her bed. She checks the time. The whole exchange took five minutes. Arguably, that was too long. She picks up her pencil, opening the textbook, and starts to copy the first problem. She gets halfway through when the phone beeps again. She’s already preparing herself for some follow up text from Kirsch, along the lines of, ‘Girls like wine, right?’ She’s elated to see a text from Laura, asking if she knows what Professor Cochrane’s stance on footnotes is. Danny had taken the class last year, and Laura was a perfectionist. She also thought she might genuinely love the class, which Danny certainly had not. She liked English, but not that much.

{MLA style. She likes footnotes more than endnotes.}

{OMG thanks you’re a lifesaver.} There’s a heart emoji attached to the text, and Danny thinks she shouldn’t overthink it, but what does it mean? After all, Laura had agreed to go to the party, but is the heart merely thanking her, or does it signify something else? Laura’s also an enthusiastic texter, so it could be just that. She decides to play it cool.

{No problem. Glad to be a help. Cochrane can be a bitch about this.} She prays gently insulting Laura’s favorite teacher doesn’t backfire. Laura responds immediately.

{Lol true, but she’s great!!! My favorite?!} Danny shrugs, smiling to herself. Her gamble had paid off. 

{If you say so.} Danny pauses, thinking for a moment, then adds another. She ignores her rule about double texting people she’s into. {Wait, I’m not your favorite? :’( C’mon Laura.}

{Ha you’re in a different category ;) } Danny gulps, and tries to mask the squeal she emits at the winky face. Laura’s still texting though, and her next text wipes the smile off of Danny’s face. {So to be clear… Thursday is a date?} 

Shit. Danny hadn’t wanted to confront this so soon. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and already, Laura was asking her to label something. She didn’t think it was Laura’s fault. She was just a sophomore, and Danny knew she could seem intimidating. {If you want it to be.} Good answer. Until she panics suddenly (What if Laura isn’t into her?), and adds quickly, so this embarrassment won’t continue, {I’ve gotta do calc, bye!}

Laura doesn’t respond to what Danny is scared about, offering a sweet goodbye, and she’s left alone with stupid math. Stupid, ridiculous math. She throws the phone back onto the bed, and twirls her pencil between her fingers for a moment. It could be worse, she tells herself. She could’ve been talking to Kirsch. That offers her some solace. At least it wasn’t Kirsch.

\-------------------

The Zeta party was raging. It was one of the “Continue the Weekend” ones they threw sometimes to cheer up everyone as the school week started anew. It was strictly Zetas only, significant others occasionally allowed. Kirsch’s girlfriend, SJ, was there, with her friend Natalie, but they were basically the only ones. They were currently helping a freshman who started throwing up from some bad Thai food he had eaten before he arrived. 

The party was at Theo’s house. The bro was loaded. There was a big, peanut shaped pool in the backyard, which had a patio and like, grass space. His house itself was three stories, had five different balconies and a crystal chandelier in every room. Kirsch had been here many times for Zeta functions, (including, but not limited to sleepovers, pool parties and a fundraising auction) but it still took his breath away. He may not know much about architecture or design, but even he could see that it was a thing of beauty. There were crystal things everywhere, like they just existed to show off how rich Theo was. It was a little bit of a dick move, all things considering, but Kirsch kept that to himself. He was planning to run for president of the Zetas once Theo is off in college, and insulting the current head honcho could hurt his chances. Kirsch took the Zetas seriously, okay? 

That’s why he isn’t drinking tonight. All the other guys were indulging, but he stands off to the side, making sure people weren’t killing themselves. Like Will. He went a little wild at the beginning of the year, and Kirsch thought it was just a newbie phase, being in his first year and a sophomore, but as the parties went on, he saw a distressing pattern emerge. Still, there were no clauses in Zeta code about binge drinking, so Kirsch couldn’t stage an official dude-tervention like he could if someone wasn’t abiding by anything actually in the charter. He sighs, and considers maybe cutting Will off, as the guy stumbles over to him. He grabs onto Kirsch’s shoulders, stumbling over his feet. Kirsch reaches out to steady him.

“Bro, are you okay? Do you need to pop a squat?” Will shakes his head, laughing.

“Nah dude. I’m swell.” Kirsch’s phone beeps just then. Danny Lawrence had apparently just seen his many texts, but there were no little dots indicating typing. Only radio silence. He frowns, and then realises Will is speaking. “Duuude, we should take a picture! For…” He waves his hand at the phone dismissively, “Tall hottie. I think she’s in my sister’s grade?” 

Kirsch looks at him, eyes bugged out. “Bro, that’s Danny. She’ll kill you if she hears you calling her a hottie.” He considers for a moment. “Even if she is one. But she’s angry.” He glances down at the phone. Danny still hadn’t replied to any of his hilarious and perfect texts. “Whatever. A picture.” 

They take the photo, a red solo cup in Will’s hand, unnatural smiles plastered on both their faces. He sends it, and wonders what classy caption he should add to it. He chooses a simple ‘Call me!’, and prays for the best. He watches it go through, as Will badgers him, “So, are you dating her or something? Cause I’d hit that.” 

He casts a sharp glance to his side, and swats Will on the ear. “No and no. She’s off limits. She’s a Summer.” His phone is ringing, as Danny’s picture fills the screen. He hits speaker, and starts talking, nerves at what she’s going to say spilling out of his mouth. “Hey, Danny! D-Bear? Can I call you D-Bear?” To him, his words seem so insecure, like he doesn’t know how to talk to anyone. He thinks she hears that. She doesn’t, of course. She just hears normal Kirsch. He doesn’t even realize she’s on speaker until the guys behind him, including Will, start making kissing noises and imitating him while also trying to ask her out. He thinks he hears iterations of ‘Whipped Willy’ about fifty times. Shit. He starts stabbing at his phone as he tries to turn off the speaker, while spinning around to the guys. “Shut the hell up! You don’t talk to Danny like that, bros. Captain’s orders.”

“Sorry, the dudes are a little wild.” He moves his face away from the phone. “Take some more shots if it’ll help you shut up, okay?” He leans back into the phone. “And zeta code says captains shall not partake, okay?”

“Didn’t know you could speak so eloquently, bro-head.” He beams. He surprised Danny. That makes him feel pretty good about himself. SJ returns to his side from helping the freshman, and he grins at her contently, motioning that he’ll be off the phone in a second. 

He thinks of a clever response, but his stupid brain keeps making him lose the title of the book. “We read that uh… Beobab guy. He spoke like that.” Kirsch is ninety percent sure he got the name right, and, on a whim, he drops his voice, giving a pretty good approximation of Arnold Schwarzenegger. “Dat was good kernen.” 

“Babe, that was pretty impressive.” He smiles down at SJ, glad that he has someone who appreciates his talents. He kisses her quickly on the cheek, mouthing ‘you’re the best’ into her ear. She wraps her arms around his neck.

“So you can remember a direct quote, but not the actual book? That’s a new level of idiocy.” He opens his mouth to object greatly, cause, like, he thought that was actually pretty smart of him when she cuts his still forming retort off. “Whatever. This isn’t helping either one of us. Are the Zetas in for the game?”

He laughs, one of those laughs that signals obviousness. “Of course! We’re always in to get close to some hotties. Not that we’d do anything of course. Zeta code.” He thumps his chest, and SJ rolls her eyes, lightly shoving him in exasperation, though a smile crosses her lips. He laughs, and doesn’t really hear anything else Danny says, giving his normal reply when she asks about the keg. When he says “See you, Danny!” and she doesn’t respond, just hanging up, he shrugs. What does he care about Danny Lawrence anyway? She was just a Summer. He had a rocking girlfriend, and a great position, and a party. Why did he need her? She was just going to be negative anyway.

He kisses SJ, spinning her around as a slower song comes over the speakers, and he forgets about Danny for the rest of the night. He could think about her more at Powder Puff. Maybe she’d even show up to the peace party. After the party, though, all his feelings about her would change in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate it, and it means so much to me. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and continue reading


	4. Meet the Belmonde-Luce-Karnstein Clan

Carmilla gets home late. She isn’t doing anything save hanging in her usual corner of the library, actively avoiding homework, but still. She doesn’t see any point in spending more time than usual in her house. The place was a tomb. Nothing fun, or even mildly entertaining could ever happen there. All that happened was the slow deadening of your soul. Look at Mattie. Graduating from business school magna cum laude and still living at home, selling her soul to the devil for political power as she helped Mother with that idiotic campaign of hers that Carmilla technically wasn’t even supposed to know about. Or Will, drowning himself in alcohol every night with those lax bros so he could avoid coming home. Carm was the only one who came home every night because she didn’t have anywhere else to be.  
Besides, at least in Mother’s eyes, it was best that she stayed home. There she could be watched under a tight leash, and controlled like the little Kitty Cat Mother called her. There she became merely “Carmilla. She’s a little shy,” as opposed to “Carmilla, who’s goth and crazy.” She wasn’t even goth! (She preferred punk, or ‘alternative’.) When she was in the house, Mother could pretend that she didn’t have a gay daughter that could potentially ruin her image to the Board of Trustees of the corporation. Carmilla rolls her eyes bitterly. Fucking idiotic. She was being erased little by little every night until one day she really would be the docile girl Mother wanted, no, expected, her to be. 

Carmilla takes a deep breath before entering. It’s 8:30. She’s sure they’ve already eaten whatever Mother’s celebrity chef has prepared for them. She has to confess she was a little surprised when she saw Will’s car in the driveway, but she guesses Wednesday is the one day they don’t have some mixer with the dude bros. The foyer is dark, and her shoes clack on the marble floor as she walks in, kicking them off underneath the mail table. She’s about to hang her coat on the hooks by the door, next to a couple of peacoats (Mattie), a trenchcoat (Mother), and a raggedy hoodie (Will), when she pauses and throws it on the chair by the door. Let Mother get into a hissy fit over that. The small rebellions, that was the key. 

She strolls into the kitchen, and that’s when she notices something is off. The dining room lights are on, and voices echo from the room. She walks in slowly, watching as the whole family looks up in perfect synchronization. They’re all gathered around the table, including a few people she recognizes from Mother’s work. Based on the numerous files and sheets of paper scattered around the table, she guesses tonight is when she and Will were to be informed. She makes her way over to the empty seat, slouching down into it the second she sits. Her food is still slightly lukewarm. She takes a bite, but it just tastes like dirt to her. She chokes it down, then looks around at them, eyes narrowing as they all continue to stare at her. “Relax, I’m not Jesus. You can go back to your regularly scheduled Machiavellian scheming now.”

“You’re late, Carmilla. You told me you would be on time tonight.” Mother is glaring daggers into Carmilla’s temples, and she suddenly feels woozy. Mother has that effect on people. She supposes that’s how she came to power so quickly. The glare of death has probably literally killed people. 

“Did I? Must have slipped my mind. Sorry.” She offers a small, completely insincere smile. Mother intensifies the glare, and a sharp stabbing pain seems to echo in Carmilla’s head. She clutches her fork tighter, and forces out the words, trying to seem unfazed. “Again, continue politicking. Don’t stop on my account.”

Mother looks her over, and she glances quickly around the table. The lackeys seem to have gone back to eating, but Will is smirking devilishly at her, relishing his new position as second favorite, having one upped her in Mother’s eyes. Mattie is above it all, which, to be fair, isn’t really new for her. “Carmilla, this is a very important occasion. It would have looked better if you were here.”  
“Looked better for whom? I don’t see cameras.” Just in case there were any, she makes a quick, profane gesture around the room. The henchman twitter nervously among themselves.

“In front of the team, dearie. You know how important optics are, especially among our own people.” Mattie’s smooth voice fills the room as she takes a sip of wine. Of course. Always bringing professionalism into this. Mattie could never really turn off the business school charm, even at dinner. Carmilla shrugs sullenly, gulping down her water. She wishes it were wine. It might make this conversation less painful. 

“Whatever. What do you need me for? I assume there’s a purpose.”

“Mama would just like you to be present for a small function after school on Thursday, when she officially steps down from her position, hands it to me for… Safekeeping, and then announces her running for Congress. It’s harmless. It will barely take thirty minutes, and then you and William can run off to that silly little school party of yours.”

That explains Will’s smugness. He knows he can get completely hammered Thursday, and Mother won’t care so long as he puts on a fancy suit and stands blandly to the side while she gives some rousing speech about the future. She wonders if he’ll even wear a real tie (probably not; it would take too much energy). She also thinks that suddenly the diversity of the three of them will do Mother some good. Not only did she adopt three children, but look at how attractive and diverse they are! Isn’t she such a good mother? God, it makes Carmilla want to puke. “Great. Fine. I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to go to some lame party filled with numbskulls who, even though they read Beowulf, probably can’t even remember the title.”

“Sorry, Kitty Cat.” Will smirks again, and she has never wanted to punch her brother more. He used to be so cute as a kid, and obedient to her to boot. She wants him to regress to that state. It shouldn’t be too hard, seeing as intellectually he’s still there. He leans in across the table, mockingly patting her hand. “Who will look after me if you’re not there?” He bats his eyelashes.

“Yeah, because you’re such a buff damsel in distress.”

“Aww, you noticed! I have been working out, thank you very much. ” 

She rolls her eyes, and stands, pushing her chair away from the table. She throws her napkin dramatically on the table. “Well, as fascinating as this conversation is, I’ve got homework to do, because unlike lovely Will here, I have a brain that doesn’t float in cheap, lukewarm beer.” She turns around, and exits the room, though not before grabbing the container of chocolate soy milk. She doesn’t know why they don’t keep regular milk in the house, like normal people, but this will have to do. 

Her room is a mess, but she can’t be bothered to clean it. It certainly has more personality than the rest of the house combined. Okay, maybe Will’s is in the running, but that’s only because it smells like a mixture of Tabasco sauce and potato vodka. Mattie’s room is a spotless Ikea catalogue, and the rest alternates between Crate and Barrel, and some luxury brand. Only the best for Mother. She sits down at the desk, pouring a glass of the milk, and getting out a box of cookies, you know, the ones covered in chocolate on one side. Her computer pings as she sits down, and she opens it. Facebook. Of course it’s fucking Facebook. You can’t escape the endless stream of notifications.

{Will Luce has invited you to ‘Zeta/Summer Peace Bash’. Are you going?}

Her finger hovers over the no button for a moment as she inspects the list of Facebook friends who are going. She’s friends with practically the entirety of the high school, despite the fact that she has probably spoken to maybe twenty of them, and nineteen of those people were forced discussions in English class. Kirsch is going, obviously, as that dimwit seems to attract parties like moths to a flame. Danny Lawrence, a leggy girl in her chemistry class, as well as those two redheads who keep claiming they’re not dating, but definitely are. And then… Laura Hollis. 

She laughs out loud. She had looked up Laura after their little run in at the library, and had been shocked to discover they were already friends online. The little girl was quite the prolific poster, reposting political memes and cat photos, as well as a bunch of personal pictures Carmilla was sure also went to her Instagram, though Carmilla felt Instagram was for the dull and uninspired. Still, Laura was going to a party. It didn’t really seem her scene, though if the redheads and Danny were going, it might explain Laura’s presence. Just the mere fact that the girl who had blushed more times during their two-minute conversation than Carmilla had thought humanly possible was enough to cause her to consider going to the party. Then her better judgement won out. She didn’t want to spend an entire evening with a bunch of lackwits at a house party. Thrown by the Zetas, no less! It would be a constant stream of douches hitting on her, then Will trying to defend her honor, but he would be too drunk and end up beaten. She had been to enough of these parties. She clicks decline, and doesn’t feel even slightly guilty.

There’s a light rap on the door at the same time as Mattie strolls through, turning up her nose in disgust as she tosses a couple pairs of leather pants off the edge of the bed and perches in the now vacant spot. “These cannot be allowed by the dress code.”

“You’d be surprised what Mother’s name can do. People turn white. It’s pretty hilarious, actually.”

“I’m not surprised by anything anymore.”

“Is that working for Mother does?”

“Working for Mama is certainly... an experience.” Mattie brushes out the wrinkles in her skirt as she crosses her legs. “I have a small favor to ask of you, Carmilla.”

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms above her head. Her eyes stray around the room, looking anywhere but at Mattie as she speaks. “I’m pretty sure nothing you ask me to do is either small or a question. It’s large, and a demand.” Mattie huffs, but she just waves her hand. “Go ahead. You’ll get what you want anyway.”

“Mama thinks it might be best for you to accompany William to all the homecoming festivities next weekend. You know, show the press what a close knit family we are.”

“Yes, we’re so close we can’t even take the same last names.” She laughs sardonically, swinging her legs through the air. “How many hyphens do you think they’ll have to insert to name us in the paper?”

“Kitty Cat, you know that’s because Mama wants us to be proud of our heritage.”

She snorts once more. “God, Mattie, how much of her Kool-Aid have you been drinking since you started working for her? You know it’s only in case we fuck up. Then, we can’t be associated with her.”

“Will you accompany William, or not?” Mattie’s ignoring the truth, because it doesn’t fit her narrative. Typical.

“I’m not going to go to some ridiculous party just because Will can’t control himself without a babysitter!”

“Mama would be very displeased if you were to say no. There would be... Consequences, perhaps.”

There’s a long silence. Carmilla stares at the wall for a long time, then leans forward, clasping her hands together on her knees. Finally, she looks up at Mattie, a deadened expression covering her face. “Then I guess I’ll be Willy’s bodyguard, seeing as I don’t have a fucking choice.” 

Mattie stands, a chipper smile on her face. She bends down, kissing Carmilla lightly on the forehead. “I’m glad to hear it, Kitty Cat. As is Mama.” She turns to leave, and then pauses, bending back around the doorframe, one hand lingering on the handle. “Oh, and Mama has a dress picked out for you for the announcement. She thinks you’ll really like it.”

Carmilla waves her hand. “Whatever. Go back to being Mother’s errand girl.” Mattie frowns, then slams the door shut. Carm groans, and looks back up at Facebook, changing her answer from no to yes. Next week is going to be hell, leading up to more hell. (There's also no way in hell she's wearing a dress.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope y'all like where this is going... Fingers crossed.
> 
> Now that we've spent some time in the heads of our characters, the action can begin.
> 
> Thanks, once again!


	5. B.P. (Before Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notable events before the big party.

Laura feels like Thursday should only take a moment to turn the corner, but the week feels like an infinite amount of time. She doesn’t even count the five tests and two essays due as being the reason that time has been stretched out so each day feels like it is moving through molasses. No, she attributes the stoppage of time to anticipation, because each second she’s around Danny her heart flutters, and her fingers twitch, and she wants desperately to hold Danny’s hand, but she can’t. Not even at Monday’s GSA meeting, where they greet a new member, which is exciting as it so rarely happens.

Her name is Elsie. She’s a junior, possibly, because Laura can’t say that she’s ever seen the girl before. At least she brings some much needed diversity to the meetings. They’d never had a blonde! Perry is practically giddy over the new addition, and because of that Laura is denied fifths on Perry’s gooey brownies. She decides, in that instant, that she doesn’t like Elsie much at all. (That new revelation could also have nothing to do with the way that Elsie is chatting easily with Danny.) She doesn’t even realize that she’s drifted off into some fantasy about lazily pushing Elsie off the building when she sees Danny’s hand waving in front of her face. “What?”

Danny tilts her head, squinting in confusion. “Do you need a ride home? We’re all about to head out so…” She shrugs, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Cause, you know I’m always ready to drive so…”

“Oh! Um, no, my dad should have gotten off work fifteen minutes ago. He’ll be here in a moment.” Laura’s phone bings, and she checks it surreptitiously under the desk. “Speaking of. He’s right outside now.” Good old Sherman Hollis. Always creepily on time. She picks up her backpack. “LaF, Perry, I’m gonna head out.” She turns to her right, where Elsie sits on the other side of Danny, and offers an awkward wave. “Nice to meet you.” She starts to head out.

Danny practically leaps out of her own chair, catching Laura’s hand on the door. “Can I walk you out?” Laura just nods, and leaves, Danny trailing behind her. Elsie stays in the classroom for a few more minutes, not sure if it’s her cue to depart.

They’re walking down the dim and empty hallway for a few moments when Laura suddenly asks, looking away from Danny as she does, “How do you know Elsie? Class?”

“Kind of. I mean, I’m in Calc with her, but she’s a Summer. Sort of.”

“How can you sort of be a Summer? I thought it was a complete admission, like, you had to sign a blood oath or something.”

Danny looks incredulously down at her. “A blood oath? This isn’t the seventeenth century, Laura. Chill.” They both laugh for a moment. “Besides, if anyone has a freaking blood oath, it’s those meat-for-brains Zetas.”  
“You never know. Cults are alive and thriving.” Laura holds the door open, and Danny steps through it out into the chill of the parking lot. “Hold up, you never explained how she’s sort of a Zeta.”

“She still hasn’t fully completed her initiation ritual, it’s not that big of a…”

“Aha! So there is a spooky scary ritual.” 

Danny gives Laura a long look, before a hint of a smile crosses her face. She runs a hand through her hair. “Yeah, fine, there’s a ritual. Happy now?” Laura only gives her a tight nod, and a devilish smile, like she’s just eaten the last of the brownies at GSA without them realizing it. “Wait, why’d you want to know about Elsie anyway?”

Laura appears immediately defensive, looking back at her toes as she kicks a bunch of gravel. She can’t begin to explain how scared she got at how much Elsie was talking to Danny, and how nervous it made her. So she just shrugs, and Danny subtly rolls her eyes, trying to hide the gesture from Laura. “My journalistic curiosity got the better of me, I guess.” A car horn interrupts their tete a tete. Laura jumps a little when her dad fires that horn off, and then gestures blandly back at it. “My ride is here.”

Danny bugs her eyes out. “Really? I had no idea.” She stares into Laura’s eyes for a second longer than is probably appropriate, and Laura has the uncontrollable urge to giggle, which really makes it harder for her to not stare in Danny’s eyes again. Danny clears her throat, and when her voice comes out it’s just a little raspy, which oh my god. Hot. “Well, don’t wanna keep your Dad waiting. He might not let you come to the party on Thursday.”

“Yeah, and we definitely don’t want that.” Laura bites her lip, looking up at Danny again. The urge comes over her again (at least this crush was reciprocated, she thinks), and instead of succumbing in the school parking lot, she leans up and brushes a feather light kiss on Danny’s cheek. Laura thinks it’s quite smooth until she’s walking back away from Danny to her father’s car and she trips. She sees concern take over Danny, and she fights away a smile. Good. 

Her dad’s car is freezing, even in October. She tries to turn up the heat, but he playfully swats her hand away. “Sweetie, you know it keeps you healthy in the cold. Less germs. Heat is just a nice snuggly place for bacteria to fester.” 

She sighs, burrowing herself in her rabbit sweater. “I know how biology works, Dad.”

“Just making sure you’re prepared. You never know. Speaking of preparation: this party on Friday… ”

“It’s Thursday, Dad.”

“A school night? Laura Hollis, you better have done all your work before then. And you better be back home at midnight on the dot.”

“What about 12:30?” She prays he’ll give her the extra time. Everyone knows parties don’t really kick into high gear until after 11:30. 

“Maybe.” He gives her some quick side eye as he drives. “What are you doing after the dance on Saturday? Who are you going with, anyway?” 

“I’m hanging out with LaF and Perry. And I’m going with J.P. You know, the guy I work in the library with?” She did a little side archivist work at the school library when she was bored. That’s how she happened upon Carmilla at 5:30 on… What was it, a Wednesday? J.P was a nice guy, if a little semantic at times. He seemed to almost be from another era, which could explain why he didn’t have many friends. He also did ask her to go to homecoming with him using the line, ‘You’re gay. I am not on an intimate level with other people. Would you like to go homecoming with me on a purely platonic level? I will do everything.’ So he was a little blunt, but Laura respected that. It was certainly easier to deal with than other forms of conversing.

“Ah. He’s a nice guy?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be safe, right?”

“I’m not dating him, Dad.” He nods, and the two descend into uncomfortable silence for the rest of the night. She gets the sense that he’s aware something is going on from the Danny interaction, but she hopes he doesn’t guess before then. She really wants to be able to tell him on her own terms. You know, agency and stuff.

\----------

Danny watches as Laura practically sprints into the car, and she gives a little wave to Danny through the window as the car pulls out of the lot. Danny checks her own phone. She has about an hour until her parents will start to get concerned about her wellbeing and ask her to come home. She goes back to the room to get her backpack, passing LaF and Perry in the halls. She says goodnight, but she doesn’t think they even noticed her, since they’re so wrapped up in each other at the moment. Honestly, if they thought that anyone didn’t know, they were being complete idiots. They weren’t particularly good at hiding. 

Elsie is still in the room. Fucking Elsie. Danny feels awkward about being around her, mostly because she was hanging in limbo regarding her Summer Society acceptance; Danny in particular felt uncomfortable because she had voted against Elsie. Especially now that Elsie was draping herself over Danny while Laura was watching, she just wanted the blonde bimbo to piss off. Still, she has to be impartial, and besides, it’s obvious to Danny that Elsie needs a ride or something. So she asks.

“Oh, that would be great! Like, you don’t have to, I’m sure you’ve got important stuff to do, but I’d really appreciate it.” She looks over her phone, lowering her eyes at Danny in some kind of seductress action. Danny feels absolutely nothing, even though Elsie, annoying as she is, is pretty hot. She’s not Danny’s type, though, because, like, anyone who has hooked up with Carmilla Karnstein definitely has terrible taste. 

“Sure. It’s not out of the way, and I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“You’re my savior. I mean it.” Elsie looks across at her again as she picks up her backpack, and Danny thinks for a second that it might be easier if they just made out. Laura is too good for her, and she can’t imagine how the other Summers will react when they discover Laura is Danny’s date. Not that they’re homophobic, just that they’ll judge her pretty hard for bringing a sophomore as her date. Elsie is easy (literally, and metaphorically). Elsie isn’t complex, she’s not a three dimensional figure in the way Laura is. She’s not adorable in that way, either, but nevertheless, she could be a worthy substitute if Danny wants. The problem is, Danny only wants one person, and Elsie isn’t her.

Danny gives a brief, harsh smile, that doesn’t even make it close to reaching her eyes. She thinks Elsie might notice, but who cares about Elsie. “Glad to be of service.” They walk the rest of the way through the halls in silence, not knowing each other well enough to talk, but being a little too familiar to try and ‘get to know each other.’ Danny regrets having parked so close to the football field, as it just creates a longer, and more uncomfortable silence. They finally arrive, and Danny has never wanted any torture to stop like this one. They throw their bags on the backseat, and she contorts her body into the only position that is comfortable for her in a car of this stature. She rues her parents once more for buying her a Prius.

“Could I play some music?”

Danny blinks a little, focusing on the road. She’s surprised that Elsie is actually trying to talk. “Sure.” 

“Got any preferences?”

“None, unless you start playing Justin Bieber. Then you’re getting ejected from my car.” 

“Noted.” Elsie puts on some terrible rap music, and Danny rolls her eyes skyward, trying to block out the sound. Elsie is definitely not getting into the Summers if this is the type of shit she plays. Thankfully, the journey to Elsie’s house is brief, and she deposits the girl on the front lawn like a package. Or, she would have. Elsie turns to her, and places her hand on top of Danny’s. She fights the urge to punch Elsie in the face. “Are you and Laura a thing?”

She clenches her jaw, and slides her hand out from underneath Elsie’s. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

Elsie grins, and Danny, understanding what’s about to happen, leans back. Unfortunately, that only seems to invite Elsie to lean forward, until she’s practically sitting on top of Danny, and she can’t find the handle of the door. Elsie is now inches away from Danny, and she whispers softly, “Good.” Then she kisses her. Normally, Danny would be elated. Normally her head would be filled with stars, and they’d have a great makeout session (she’s pretty terrific at kissing). But normal doesn’t seem to be applying anymore. She can’t help thinking of Laura, and almost as quickly as it began, it’s over, and she pushes Elsie off of her, and then out of the car. She drives away, straight home, and shoots hoops in her driveway for half an hour, before she gets a text from Laura, and a pit balls up in her stomach. She doesn’t say anything, just responds in emojis, and prays she’ll feel less guilty come Thursday. Then, maybe, she’ll get a head full of stars. 

\---------- 

LaFontaine is having a really hard time convincing Perry to come to the party with them. They’ve been sitting in there for about forty minutes, longer than they’ve gone without kissing Perry in about forever, as Perry stresses and frets and tries to talk them out of it. “C’mon, Perr, it’ll be fun. No one will care if we’re making out in a corner the entire time, because they’ll all be wasted out of their minds.”

“It’s a school night, LaFontaine, and I have work. A-and a test. I have a test! I cannot go to a party the night before a test.” She shakes her head emphatically, and they slump against their window, causing the truck to shake slightly. It’s enough to make them laugh, which earns them a glare. “My terror is not cause for your amusement!”

“Sorry. Sorry.” They readjust, trying to bring the truck back to more set equilibrium. “Look… What about we only stay until 11? That gives you plenty of time to study beforehand, and then you can study for another hour at my place before your curfew. If that’s the only thing you’re worried about…” They see the look on their girlfriends face, so they take her hands in theirs. “What’s wrong, babe?”

She sighs, melting into their arms. Even in a fight, they can’t be apart for too long, and that makes them smirk in satisfaction a little. (And want to punch their eighth grade self, because how idiotic were they?) “It’s just… I’m nervous. It’s practically a frat party. What if they don’t see that we’re together, and some guy hits on me? Or on you?”

They laugh, bringing Perry closer towards them. “Then I’ll punch them out.”

“LaFontaine!”

“I’m joking, I swear. But I mean, Perr, does it matter whether they see it or not? We’re together, that’s all that matters. The others can all suck it.” 

She looks up at them with adoring eyes, and they feel a rush of adrenaline go up to their brain. She is so beautiful. “Well, that’s hardly fair.”

“What’s hardly fair?”

“You’re doing your puppy dog eyes, I can’t say no to you now. They’re even better than Laura’s, and I give in to her requests for baked goods every time.”

They squeeze her tightly, and press a kiss to her forehead. “Is there anything else? Or is that the only thing that sparked this freakout, cause if so, I should have puppied-out a while ago.”

“ I guess it won’t be too terrible. Danny will be there, right?”

“Danny’s like, hosting the thing. It’s her responsibility as a junior leader. She’ll definitely be there. She invited me.” LaFontaine still hasn’t told Perry about the chemical solution they’re brewing at home yet. They’re pretty sure she’ll think it’s meth before they can get a word in edgewise. “Trust me, babe. We’ll be perfectly fine.”

“You’re positive?” They know why Perry is concerned, and it’s understandable. The last party the two of them went to that involved Zetas hadn’t gone well for either of them. But Kirsch was also helping to run this, and he’s not that terrible of a guy. Better than that douchebag Theo, at least, though they tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. They try to be better with that, but it’s a little hard when the dude is such a prick.

“I’m three hundred percent sure. Maybe some stuff will happen to someone else, but we are going to be just fine.”

“You better not be lying, LaFontaine. Otherwise, I will be very cross.”

They smile nervously. Perry still scares them a little bit when she talks like that. “Well, I don’t think either one of us want that.” She laughs, and they ask hesitantly, “So… You’re coming then?”

“Well, you did make quite a convincing argument. I’m sure a little break from studying wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you can quiz me.”

“While we’re buzzed?”

“If I can answer questions drunk, I can answer them sober.”

“Fair enough. Now, is this argument over? Please say it’s over.”

She smiles while rolling her eyes. “It’s over.” She tilts her head back, and they lean down, kissing her lightly. It turns into more of a makeout session than they had planned, but they don’t mind. Anything better than fighting. They can’t wait for the party. It’s going to be amazing. 

\---------

Kirsch has never had this much pressure in his life. This party needs to be perfect. If it isn’t, his entire position in the Zetas is at risk. He needs to make this the best party of all time, then fight what’s probably gonna be a killer hangover to win a powder puff game. He stops shining the ceremonial keg for a moment to examine it. This was gonna be the center of the Zetas luck. If anyone tampered with it, they were going to lose. And then Theo would flay him, and use his skin to make a better football. Ugh. Gross. He gets back to work. No room to screw up. He swallows hard. God, nothing could go wrong. Let this be perfect. He checks his watch. Twenty four hours till the party starts. If Jack Bauer can keep his cool, so can he. Be Jack Bauer. Be Jack Bauer.

\---------

Carmilla stares at the dress for a long time, before turning to Mattie and raising an eyebrow. “Mother wants me to wear this?’ She merely nods, and Carmilla shakes her head. “It’s not even black, Mattie!”

“Mama thought it would suit your complexion.”

“Like hell it does. I’ll be the dutiful daughter, and I’ll stand to the side and pretend to be a little perfect angel, but I am not doing it in that thing.” She drops onto the bed, crossing her arms.

“Carmilla, you’d look lovely in yellow…”

“Fuck no.” The words hang in the air between them, and Mattie sighs, before going over to the closet, and rummaging through it. She heads to the back of Carm’s closet, and she promptly groans. There’s only stuff she hates back there. “Look, just… Why can’t I just wear black? It’s not like I’m going to stand out.” There’s no response, except for Mattie’s tuts, and the sound of clothes being thrown to the floor. Mattie remains in the closet for about ten minutes, during which Will knocks on the door.

“Hey, can you help me with this?” He’s holding a tie in his hand. Of course the imbecile can’t tie a tie. She narrows her eyes. He’s really been wearing clip-ons this entire time. Still, she beckons him over, and ties it quickly, with minimal effort. “Thanks. How do I look?”

“Better than average. Not that that’s saying much.” He doesn’t look half bad. She has to admit, her younger brother isn’t too disgusting to look at anymore. His suit actually fits him, and he’s made an effort to match, including a pocket square, which is out of character for him.

“Think I could score tonight at the party?”

She makes a growling noise at him. “Just when I thought you weren’t acting like a terrible teenage boy, you just go out and say this. Also, gross.” He makes a weird face at her, miming the horns of a moose, and she shoves him out of her room. She raises her voice to reach Mattie in the closet. “Have you found something that doesn’t make me want to throw up?”

Mattie emerges from the closet, and throws a black blazer, jeans, and a white shirt at her. “Bring a bag. You can change into different clothes for the party, if you want. Wear heels, please. It’s the least you can do to appease Mama.” 

“Fine. Just because…” She throws her hands up in the air. “Whatever. Let me be so I can mourn the loss of my dignity.” Mattie exits gracefully, bringing some purple garment with her, and Carmilla changes quickly, making a superficial attempt to brush her hair and touch up her eyeliner. She shoves a pair of converse, leather pants, and a vest into the bag, as well as her wallet and keys. She meets the rest of the family downstairs (sans Mother, who has already left to go plot world domination at the venue), and they pile into some black sedan. She’s told her car is already at the location, so at least she has a means of exit if she becomes too sick at the pomp of the event. 

It’s blustery and cold, and she tries to appreciate the manufactured beauty of the park, but she’s really not in the mood. At least it’s not sunny. She hates the sun. While necessary for the survival of the human race, it’s far overrated. She prefers the stars. There’s something about the endless possibility lodged up in the clouds that she finds comforting. The sun only offers temporary life, as it will eventually explode and destroy the entirety of the planet. 

Mother is calmly ordering her henchpeople around, as she stands at the podium, orchestrating where all the press cameras and various journalists will be. She really is a master of manipulation, Carmilla has to give her that. She knows where each and every person should go to create the minimum amount of conflict possible. At one point, someone suggests a person be rearranged, and Mother gives him the death glare. He practically passes out trying to kiss her ass so she’d stop. It doesn’t really work, which gives Carmilla some satisfaction. It’s kind of nice seeing someone else bear the brunt of Mother’s cruelty for once.

Finally, at five sharp, the event kicks off, and Carmilla has underestimated how much standing it is. She’s standing for nearly four hours, as Mother starts a de facto press conference here in the park. Mattie is smiling through the pain, though she’s wearing higher heels than Carmilla, so her feet must be giving her hell. Carmilla is pretty sure Will fell asleep twenty minutes into Mother’s first monologue about safety and security, and she admires his ability to do so. At one point, her ears prick up when a reporter asks Mother’s views on the LGBT+ community. She fields the question expertly, giving a noncommittal answer about how she loves all people, and supports them, unless their lifestyle infringes on other constituents’ happiness. So basically: I play both sides of the field, but I won’t let my daughter be gay because that could affect voter turnout. After answering the question, Mother turns and gives Carmilla a thin smile, which she does back. Cameras flash, and she subtly flinches in the light.

It finally ends, though Carmilla and Will are only allowed to leave after Mother is sure all the press are gone, because she doesn’t want a camera crew following them as they misbehave. They leap into the car, Will pulling a Superman as she drives, changing seamlessly into a Zeta t-shirt and jeans. They think they can hear the party from what seems like miles away as they pull up. She drops Will off, and changes, wishing she can just skip out on the party. Will wouldn’t care. No one else would notice. Still, she’s already on Mother’s bad side. She might as well minimize the verbal beating she’ll endure when she gets home. She exits the care, and slowly walks up the porch to the door. She takes a deep breath, then opens it, and walks through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Thanks for making it through the longest chapter so far.
> 
> Finally, the action can really kick off. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll stick around!


	6. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down.

Laura doesn’t know how everyone is fitting in the house. It feels like the entire school is there, even though, intellectually, she knows it’s mostly upperclassmen. Still, wow. There are enough people to make Spider-Man claustrophobic. (What? That didn’t even make sense. She’s off her analogy game.) The second she walks through the door, at around 10:30, a thrashed Zeta shoves a red solo cup into her hand and asks if she’d like to go anywhere quiet. She responds by slipping underneath his arm and getting lost in the labyrinth of rooms that have become indistinguishable because they all look like the inside of a strip club.

Holy Guacamole. Where was Danny? There were so many people here, and Laura was sure that she’d never find anyone she knew. She weaves further, past the couches where people are practically having sex in public, past the Zeta’s ceremonial kegger where she notices LaFontaine and Perry chatting with a couple Summers (though not Danny, unfortunately), past Theo and a couple of his bros scheming about the Powder Puff game tomorrow. It was seriously creepy how he always looked suspicious. Laura made note of that. Maybe she could write a story that. Everyone loves cults. Not like, literally of course, but you know, in theory.

She finds a corner in one of the back rooms, and positions herself there, putting her solo cup down. Rule number one of parties: never drink anything someone gives you. Maybe she could write a list of party rules. She makes a mental note, then notices a closed bottle of vodka and a container of orange juice. She mixes something that is definitely 95% orange juice, and is fairly pleased with the results, because Sweet Hermione, alcohol is terrible. The music is also trash, a mix of Top 40 and remixes of Top 40. She really only came for Danny, and she can’t find Danny, which is pretty annoying. Still, she sips her concoction and prays her dad won’t notice the inevitable buzz when she gets home. 

Suddenly, Laura feels someone knock into her shoulder and she yelps, jumping up, ready to Krav Maga anyone to the ground. “Oh, terribly sorry, Ms. Hollis.”

She sighs, relieved. “J.P, for the last time, you can just call me Laura.”

He pushes his beanie away from his face, knocking his glasses that she was pretty sure he didn’t need down from his face. Blearily, he searched for them on the ground. “So sorry, but my mental faculties are slightly impaired at the moment.” He pops back up, glasses on backwards. “Did you know that swallows eat their young?”

“J.P., that isn’t even factual.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his shoes, blinking very pronouncedly. “Oh… they eat their husbands, that’s it.”

“I think you’re thinking of a praying mantis. I did a report on it in sixth grade.” She pauses, looking him over. “Why are you even here? You’re not a Zeta.”

“Well, no, but Kirsch saw fit to invite the entire quiet section of the library yesterday, and my parents think I should get out more so…” he sways slightly, grabbing onto the wall, but then sliding back. Laura helps him up, frowning. “Here we are.” 

She sighs. “Here we are. Hey, J.P., have you seen Danny?”

“Ms. Lawrence… Hmmm. I seem to recall… Nope. No idea.”

“Great. You should lie down, are you sure you’re okay?” He didn’t answer, and she shrugs, heading off, away from him, to try and find Danny. What if she leaves? What if she didn’t actually want her here? What if Laura is about to get pranked by some Summers? The thoughts keep bubbling up in her head, and she has to keep reminding herself that Danny would never do that, that this party is her crowning achievement, that she has to be here. Laura pauses, thinking. Where would she be? “Cmon, Hollis, think. You didn’t get a Champion of Buffy the Vampire Slayer badge on Quizup for nothing.” 

She sets off towards the second floor. After all, she hasn’t seen any Summer Honchos yet, and she assumes that they must be convening on the second floor, perhaps creating a battle strategy before they head into the fray. God, why were all the main clubs on campus so dramatic? It’s like, just be a normal club, and have bake sales, or movie nights, not whatever the Adonis Hunt was. Not to mention the Zetas penchant for throwing ragers in old school classrooms. 

Her suspicion is confirmed by two Summers pledges guarding the stairs, one of them being Elsie. (What. A. Bitch.) Elsie has this huge smirk on her face when she sees Laura, as though she knows something that Laura doesn’t, and is really excited about it. “Hey Laura.”

“Hi Elsie. Is Danny here?”

“Sorry. Summers only.”

Laura gives her a threatening look, which would be more menacing if it wasn’t delivered by a 5’2 person perceived as being made of sugar. “What about dates of Summers?” 

“Sorry, Hollis. No can do.” That stupid smug look has returned, like Elsie has just eaten all the frosting, but only the frosting, off the cupcakes. What the hell is her deal?

“Elsie! It’s fine.” And there she is. Laura’s knight in shining armor, sprinting down the stairs two at a time. Danny is wearing a fairly tight ‘Adonis Festival: 2016’ t-shirt and jeans, and boy, she looks great. Laura grins, and Danny smiles softly back. “Elsie, Jane, Mel wants to talk to you both. It’s about the pledges.” The two girls leap up the stairs, pushing at each other to get in front.

“Wow. The stuff you inspire in people. You must be a cult.” 

Danny laughs, putting her hand delicately on Laura’s shoulder to steer her away, and towards another door. “Careful Hollis. We can’t have journalists messing around. Could ruin our entire organization.” Laura feels a shiver run down her spine at the touch, and lets Danny guide her into the room. It’s some sort of parlor, with a small couch and lots of books everywhere. Laura sets her cup down on a bookshelf, next to Paradise Lost. She snorts. That seems appropriate. 

“You okay?” Danny is looking at her with concern. Laura nods eagerly, stepping forward. How was Danny so tall? It was like she was Hercules’ second cousin or something, doomed to wander around taller than everyone else. “Good,” Danny says, “Because I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, and obviously in the Summer Vows they say that consent is the most important.”

Laura chuckles nearly silently. “Yes,” she murmurs, taking Danny’s hands and lacing them with her own. “Of course I’m good.” This feels good. Just her and Danny, alone. Laura has read (in fanfiction, obviously) about sexual tension being enough to make the air feel thick, but this is something else. She feels like there was fire running up and down her body, and where their hands are laced isn’t quenching fire, but exacerbating it, making it burn hotter. 

Danny smiles, her face moving close enough so that Laura can feel the heat of her breath on her lips. “Good. Cause I’ve wanted to do this…” Her voice trails of as she leans in and kisses Laura. This is Laura’s first real kiss, not that she’d tell Danny that, of course, but Danny is really good at this. Her lips are soft, and wet, but not unpleasantly so. When they kiss it feels like all the fire in her body has gone into Danny, and Laura finds her hands creeping up, going around Danny’s waist as Danny softly grips her face. Danny gasps at the new pressure, which is hot beyond belief. Laura can feel the kiss deepening, lengthening, when they hear a giant bang outside. They split apart immediately as the door opens, revealing Mel. 

“Stop whatever you’re doing.”

“Mel, what the hell happened?” Danny is practically yelling in frustration, and Laura can relate.

“Carmilla Karnstein just destroyed the Ceremonial Keg.” Mel pauses, taking it in. Her eyes widen a fraction, and her eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh, Artemis. The Zetas are going to kill her.”

\--------

Carmilla hadn’t meant to take an axe to that musty old keg that the Zetas worshipped like it was Superman. Certainly, when she had arrived, she had just meant to grab a bottle of terrible wine and retreat into a corner until WIll needed to be scraped up from the pavement and taken home. But once she got there, she realized it was going to be a little different. There was a throng of dude-bros in the front room, who were, unfortunately, seemingly unavoidable, and she didn’t particularly want to run to the protection of the Summers, considering the amount of them she had hooked up with and then ditched. The final indignation was that the alcohol was being guarded by the two insufferable redheads, who were going to make her throw up with their public displays of affection. Still, lesser of three evils, right. 

The short-haired one (what was their name) seemed to be mixing drinks with an aplomb only suited to Tom Cruise in Cocktail. She had sidled up to them and inquired, “Barkeep, what is the bottle with the highest alcohol content that you have?”

They looked confused, glancing back at the girl (Perry?) with a baffled and clearly drunk look. “Oh, no, I’m not the…”

She cut them off, snagging a bottle of scotch. With a lot of sarcasm, and a tiny bit of respect, she threw out a, “Thanks! Oh, and try not to disgust the rest of the people with your cuddling. Just hook up.”

As she was walking away, Perry shouted out, “At least I’m not self-hating and in the closet!”

“Woah, Per.”

Carmilla spun back around, marching towards them. “What I do with my life is none of your fucking business.” She grabs her phone, checking it angrily. 10:50. “You’re in charge of all the alcohol, right?”

“Not really,” they answered warily. 

“What’s in the keg?”

They responded quickly, with an air of panic, “Oh, that’s empty. And it’s the Zetas. You don’t wanna drink that.” They lean in conspiratorially. “I think it might be drugged.”

“By you, LaFontaine!” Perry barked out, louder than she had intended, then clapped her hand over her mouth. 

“Perfect.” With that, Carmilla grabbed a heavy trinket from the wall, and bashed in the lid of the keg. It made a loud bang, and instantly, everyone was staring at her. She tossed it back. “Oops.” 

One of the dude-bros, eyes wide in disbelief, walked over. “Oh, you did not just do that.” Out of the corner of her eye, Carmilla saw Mel open a door, and, to her surprise and amusement, Danny and Laura exited. Carmilla was happier than she should have been to see their little tryst stopped before it got anywhere.

And then Will, her very own brother dearest had rushed her, and that’s how she ended up getting beaten by a pile of over muscular teenage boys for smashing their relic. The Summers finally come to their senses, with cries of “Protect the women!” and start fighting back against the bros. Carmilla kicks her way out of the pile (those heels she never took off working to her advantage) and looks around, smirking. This is her type of party. The only person not participating is the cupcake, Laura, who is looking around in one part shock and dismay, and the other part trying to figure out the story. Their eyes meet, and Carmilla snickers at Laura’s tiny anger. 

Then they hear the sirens. 

\--------

Kirsch thought the party was going well. People were hooking up, drinking lots, and the music was popping. All in all, this was definitely going to get him that promotion. Theo couldn’t mock him for this. Admittedly, the dude could mock anyone for anything, it was, like, his thing, but Kirsch literally couldn’t see a fault in the party. If he was more cultured, he’d do the Italian thing where you kiss your fingers to say “Perfect!”. 

He says hi to LaFontaine and Perry as he refills his drink at the Keg. They look nervous, but he bets it’s just cause they’d never been to a party as good as this one before, right? LaFontaine looks like she… No, they are about to say something, but then they stop the second he takes a chug from his beer. 

He turns to them. “Having fun?” Ugh, he sounds so eager. So desperate. It’s like he’s scheming them though. They don’t think that, right? He has SJ.

They nod. “Yeah,” LaFontaine shouts. “It’s a really good party.”

“Very good!” Perry echoes chipperly.

“Awesome, dudes!” He pats them both on the back, and continues on. Something about the beer tastes off: maybe they got a different brand? He knows LaFontaine knows chemistry stuff, and a great idea comes to him. He spins and gets back to them. “Hey, bro, you’re good at chemistry, right?”

“Yes?” They sound like they’re weirded out.

“Could you go to the bar and mix drinks? I bet a chemistry genius would be able to make something that would, like, blow my face off or something. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”

“We’d love to,” Perry offers, and she steers LaFontaine away from Kirsch and the Keg.

He’s across the room when he hears it: a cry of pain, the sound of ancient wood being split in two, of Zetas past moaning in agony. Carmilla Karnstein has just destroyed the Keg. He likes Carmilla normally (super hot and goth: Kirsh can dig it) but now, he’s shocked. “Oh, you did not just do that.” He howls the words out in disbelief like he’s just been stabbed. He doesn’t think anything is going to happen, not at least, until Will jumps his own sister. Not cool. They were going to have to dissect Section 6 of the articles later: “Zetas come before everything except Your Fam.” 

The fight is getting out of control, and Kirsch suddenly has a nosebleed from a Zeta’s elbow. This is ridiculous. And Theo is going to kill him. He pulls out his phone, calls 911. He grabs SJ, and they leave. He may be an idiot sometimes, but he knows the one thing he doesn’t want to do is get arrested by cops at his own party. They’re already a couple blocks away when they hear the sirens. SJ kisses him. “Babe, did I do the right thing? What if I get in trouble with Theo?”

“You did the right thing. Now c’mon, I’ve got to go to sleep.” He drives her home, tucks her into bed like a gentleman. He hopes the bros will get out in time. Maybe the Summers will lose some players for the game tomorrow. The thought perks him up.

\--------

Laura hears the sirens first, but she has no idea what to do. Holy Hogwarts, this is her first party ever. She doesn’t even know how to properly drink. Or make out. Still, she knows how to yell. She stands on a chair, and screams at the top of her lungs, “COPS ARE COMING!” 

People can scatter quickly. By the time Laura is about to head out (she saw Danny, who squeezed her hand), no one else is there except for Laura and the girl who started everything, Carmilla, who appears to now be reading No Exit while serenely drinking a bottle of scotch. Laura shakes her head. “This is all your fault.”

Carmilla looks up laconically, running her eyes over the entirety of Laura’s frame in a way that made Laura feel like she should have a shower afterwards. “Sorry, Creampuff. Not everything revolves around you and your beau hooking up.” 

Laura blushes bright pink. “What?”

“We all have eyes, Cupcake. Oh, and just so you know,” Carmilla closes the book, and stands, slinking weirdly close to Laura. She whispers in her ear, “Danny Lawrence isn’t nearly the best kisser in this school.” 

Of course that’s when Sherman Hollis bursts in, guns blazing, to find his daughter and Carmilla both holding alcohol, and what looks like weed on the table. The rest of the house is deserted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but, as you can see, plot is actually happening! Yay?!


	7. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people yell. A lot.

“Laura Eileen Hollis, I cannot believe this. Underage drinking. Illegal drug use. An arrest? This is unbelievable. I am…” Sherman searched for the right word. “Gobsmacked! After all my lessons. After all my instructions, my clear instructions for the rules of the party, and this is how you act! I’ve half a mind to just leave you locked up in jail for the rest of your young life, just so this can’t possibly happen again.”

“Dad, I can’t be the only arrest. I mean, the entire senior and junior grades were there, but I’m the only one who gets locked up? That’s a… That’s a miscarriage of justice. Oh, Voldemort, I need to write an expose. Dad, get me a pen.”

Sherman paces around his office. As Sheriff, he had pulled some strings so Laura was no longer in the cell, but the handcuffs stay firmly around her wrists. He had added one chaining her to the chair, too, just in case. These are the things that stress him out greatly as a father. This is why he worries, because no matter how careful you are, they might still go out and get arrested at a party. “Laura, it doesn’t matter if there were other people, you were the one there when we arrived. With a bag of marijuana, no less. I’ve half a mind to just leave you locked up in jail for the rest of your young life, just so this can’t possibly happen again.”

Laura raises her eyebrows, bemused. “Dad, you already said that line.”

He splutters angrily. “Well I’m your father; if it’s a good line, I’m going to use it more than once!” He sighs, sitting on the desk. “One, you have school tomorrow. Or, technically, today. Two, you’re going to get off with community service. I vouched that the reefer wasn’t yours.”

“Reefer? No one’s called pot ‘reefer’ since the sixties.”

“I don’t care!” He pauses, his next words a little less violent. “Also, it concerns me that you’re up to date on your terminology. You sure the pot wasn’t yours?”

“Dad!”

“Just checking. Look: you’re going to have a curfew now. I’ll allow homecoming, for the sake of that Armitage boy, but only that. No more parties. You get home after six, you’re grounded for a week. You’re going to do your community service. You’re going to start Krav Maga again. And you’re going to not hang out with that Karnstein girl.”

“What if she’s doing community service with me?”

“Then don’t talk to her. Laura, darling, I love you, but she’s a bad influence.”

Laura frowns, trying to cross her arms, but hampered by the sets of handcuffs. “Dad, I’m not even friends with her. We were just the last ones to get out.”

“It looked like you two were pretty friendly.”

Laura blushes immediately, trying to smack him, but again, is stopped by the handcuffs. There is a really good metaphor, somewhere. “Dad!”

He laughs slightly, waving her aside. “The point is, you have to be a model citizen from now on. And if you aren’t, I will know, understand?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Good. Now let’s go home. I’m tired, and I think there’s some leftover lasagna in the fridge. It’ll cure your vodka breath.” They drive home in silence, neither daring to speak about what has just happened, or what will. Sherman is careful on the road, as he is always. They both remember that day when he hadn’t been too careful, and neither wants to reenact it. The silence is still, somehow, comfortable. Sherman hesitantly glances over, and is amazed to see the woman sitting next to him in the car. He hadn’t realized that she had grown up until tonight, not really. That adult world had been all in theory, but tonight, it had become practice. Sherman doesn’t know how much he likes this brave new world Laura has entered, but he understands, at least in the moment, that it is necessary. They all have to leave the realm of the juvenile some day, though he regrets that Laura’s leaving has resulted in an arrest. It was almost poetic, if you really thought about it.

He turns back to the road. There they are. Where it happened. Instinctively, he slows the car, looking at the still mangled tree on the side of the road. He keeps asking the Kirsch family to remove the tree, but they never do. They say they like it that way. But for him, and, judging by the way Laura’s breathing becomes ragged in the seat next to him, her, the tree is just a reminder of that night.

_Christmas. Snow falling heavily, coating the road. Sherman driving, her beside him, Laura in a carseat in the back. She was seven, she didn’t really need a carseat, but they were overprotective parents. The road was icy, but Sherman was a good driver. Methodical. They even had snow tires on the car. The road got fairly windy as they approached the house the back way, and she wanted to go the long way, around to the front of the house, on the wider roads that got plowed more often, but Laura was tired and wanted hot chocolate. How could they say no to their little girl?_

_If they noticed the tires skidding anymore than usual they attributed it to the weather, because how could they not? The snow was falling harder now, and visibility was low. It was hard to know precisely where they were, even with the full glare of their headlights. Laura was nearly asleep in the backseat already, but what little energy she had was devoted to babbling pointless facts about snowflakes. Maria was laughing, encouraging her on. Sherman turned, smiling at his happy family, eyes leaving the road for a second and then…_

_Bang. The car slammed into the large oak tree in the Kirsch yard. The tree was already gnarly and tangled, limbs shooting everywhere. One such limb was destined on a path for the front passenger seat. Laura and Sherman got scrapes, but were largely unharmed. Young Wilson sprinted out into the yard in his new Toy Story pyjamas, screaming for help. All Laura could do was stare at the mass of red covering her mother’s face. Later, in the privacy of the morgue, the coroner would confess to Sherman that he had never seen a death so grotesque. The Hollis household was filled with enough casseroles to last a year._

“Dad? Dad?” Laura waves her hand in front of his face. The car is stalled on the road, right in front of the tree. He doesn’t answer her when he comes to, just drives silently home. Laura doesn’t eat lasagna, but she does take some of her favorite cookies up to her room. Usually Sherman would make sure she could only have two, but tonight, he doesn’t care. He loves his daughter. And she will never get hurt like Maria. Ever.

\--------

Carmilla sits in jail, alone. No one is going to come get her, she’s pretty sure. Getting her from jail would mean Mother would have to acknowledge her existence, acknowledge her fuck-up of a daughter exists, and that just might be too much for her. If anyone comes for Carm, it’ll be Maddie. She may be a conniving, manipulative sister, but at least she calls Carmilla her sister. It’s more than can be said for Mother.

So she sits in the dark, and waits for nothing. They confiscated her Sartre, which is a shame, because it certainly applies to this situation. He was right after all: hell is other people. Or the lack of them. Or yourself. So really, when you do all the conversions, hell equals people in general. Yourself or others. Carmilla grimaces at the thought. How macabre. Mother would surely enjoy that bit of mental math. She starts to try and make herself comfortable on the mattress, hoping that she wouldn’t be stuck here all night. However, inside, she had sadly resigned herself to it. No one would be coming for her, so there was no use crying or raging at the walls. That would only make her stay worse. Stay. What a tricky word. Like she was at some high class hotel, or AirBNB, as opposed to in a holding cell, waiting to be retrieved.

Carmilla wonders why she didn’t try to run. Why she had waited calmly, even walking to the sink to wipe some blood and touch up her makeup instead of scattering when she heard the low wail of sirens. Will had scattered first, terrified of consequences. Sweet Will wouldn’t get punished for anything. Carmilla would take the brunt of the punishment, as she always did. Perhaps that is why she isn’t panicking at her situation. The quiet, the peace of jail is better than Mother’s glaring.

But more than anything else, she thinks about Laura Hollis. The Creampuff who had stayed, helping others out before herself, only to stop and yell at Carmilla. That makes her angry. What gives Laura Hollis, Sheriff’s daughter, the ability to get mad at Carmilla? What gives her that right? She had probably called the cops in the first place because she was scared at the moral depravity that occurs at a high school party, maybe because she was scared of hooking up with that Amazon Danny. Carmilla smirks slightly. Danny was actually a very good kisser. They had hooked up, what, in eighth grade? Ninth? Maybe the summer between, that would make sense. Mostly out of hatred for each other, and repressed feelings for other girls, had caused them to get together. Danny had been the second Mother had found out about as well. Danny was the second girl that had caused Carmilla to come into school wearing sunglasses because of “a killer headache.”

But Laura. What was her deal? If Carmilla had access to the files on Sheriff Hollis that she is sure Mother owns, maybe that could help solve the puzzle. She’s just a pretentious high school journalist who wanted to discover a scandal, even when none existed. She’s a dime a dozen donut with no particular exemplary qualities. She is, Carmilla reflects, pretty cute. She’s got dimples. That’s probably all there is. Carmilla can admit when someone is attractive. Maybe she could draw the Cupcake away from the Amazon. That would be a fun game.

Her reveries are disrupted by the clicking of patent leather loafers, following by a louder click of stilettos. So, Mother had brought in the big guns. Her suspicions are confirmed she is greeted at the doorway to her cell by Barron Vordenberg and Mattie. Vordenberg’s expression is like he just had a catheter rammed up his you-know-what, and Mattie is wearing an expression that she might have been told was soothing, but definitely carried a menacing glare.

“Ms. Karnstein, we have settled the charges against you.” Vordenberg pronounces soberly. “At, I might add, I very high cost to the firm. You should be thankful for our contributions to your cause, Ms. Belmonde.” Vordenberg’s accent remained thick, despite him having lived for decades in the country, which led Carmilla to believe during her first encounter with him, that he was making the accent thicker than it needed to be. She had not been disabused of this notion over the years.

Carmilla stands, stretching luxuriously, almost like a cat, despite the space not actually being cramped. She doesn’t talk to Mattie or Vordenberg as they walk back out into the main room of the police station, nor does she utter a word as she retrieves her things. In the car (a limo, really Mother?) she merely finds her page and starts reading the Sartre.

“Carmilla, dear, we must talk about your punishment.”

Carmilla arches an eyebrow, looking at Mattie across her book. There is a definite space between each word, that emptiness being used to convey a whole amount of foul thoughts that do not need to be spoken. “Must we? Must we talk about ze punishment?” She winks nastily at Vordenberg, who promptly becomes a turnip.

“Well, it’s either with us, or with Mama. Choose your poison.”

“Fine.”

Mattie smooths out her skirt, pleased. “Very well. If you insist. You will be required to perform community service with that other hooligan, Lara.”

“It’s Laura.”

Mattie shrugs, moving past the error (though it was probably intentional) with the air of a butterfly, fluttering through the sky. “Regardless. You’ll have a curfew, and be required to attend all of Mama’s campaign events.” Carmilla groans, and Mattie’s tone becomes harsher. “And wear the selected outfits.”

“That cannot be court approved.”

“Mama added in her own wishes. And, as you know, when the CEO of Silas Industries requests something, the courts will bend over backwards to comply with her order.”

“Very well. That’s all?”

Vordenberg clears his throat. “There is also the matter of company.” Carmilla furrows her brow, and he pompously pulls out a sheaf of documents. “Ahem. ‘Carmilla’s isolation cannot be good for her health, and in all probability, caused this incident. She will be required to make friends of a certain class, as well as attend therapy sessions.'’’

“For chrissake, it was just a little underage drinking. I can’t imagine this is symptomatic of a mental health issue. Much less warrant the involvement of a shrink to dig around in my brain, and find my mommy issues.” Carmilla pauses, sardonically tapping her temple. “Oh, wait. There they are!” Mattie doesn’t come up with a clever retort to that one. They ride the rest of the way to the McMansion in silence. Carmilla is immediately thrown into her room, sequestered as Mattie and Mother have a conversation in hushed tones. Vordenberg is just the lawyer; this is family only.

Will creeps into her room later that night. She throws a pillow at him and tells him to get out. “C’mon Kitty. I just wanna talk.”

“This is all your fault, Willy. Forgive me if I want some peace and quiet before the inevitable fireworks of the skull start to happen.”

He sighs, and she can see actual contrition in his eyes. What a shocker. Slick Will, actually sorry about something. She rolls her eyes and lets him sit on the bed. “I’m sorry. About starting the fight, about running without you, about what’s gonna happen. I’m sorry about all of it.”

“Is this just the booze, cause I think I might like you drunk more than I like you sober.”

“It’s not just the booze. Though,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair, “That helps. I just wanted you to have some fun. I didn’t mean for it to get so fucked up. I just wanted my sister to have some fun, is that so much to ask?”

She awkwardly pats his shoulder. “Thanks. Though, if this is your idea of fun, I think you haven’t learned the concept properly, dumpling.” Dumpling. She hadn’t called Will dumpling since he was five years old and chubby and cute. Where had that come from? She needs to cover it up. “I uh… still hate you and think you’re a douche who doesn’t respect women or gays.”

They both laugh for a moment, like they’re kids again, who can forget all the history of manipulation and mind games that have shaped them as adults. Then he stands, leans on the doorway and says “later”, and heads to his room. She’s alone again. She doesn’t hear Mother and Mattie anymore. She pulls the pillow over her face and waits. Seconds later, the pain hits, like twenty knives straight to the skull, battering her brain to a pulp. All that Carmilla can hope for right now is that Mother is in a forgiving mood.

\--------

Perry is home too late, and she knows that means trouble. That she is brought home by a drunk LaFontaine who, in this state is a little too touchy, is even worse. They kiss her goodnight in the car, and she can taste whatever terrible Schnapps they were drinking and it is wonderful. But then she is home and they are driving away and her mother is lecturing her about sin. Perry slams the door, locking it shut, and cleans until dawn. Hopefully, LaFontaine would be okay in the morning and they could pretend tonight had never happened. She doesn’t think that’s going to happen, though, when her dad breaks through the door and blocks her from leaving.

\--------

LaFontaine is on top of the world. Their plan went off without a hitch, and if they were lucky, no Zeta would show up tomorrow looking bright eyed and bushy tailed. They could sail down the halls in peace, arm in arm with Per, without the judgemental gazes of dude-bros. They could worship at the altar of science, with Perry by their side, their worthy disciple. But right now, what they really needed was sleep. (They may have spent the night in their truck, but no one can either confirm or deny that statement, and they plead the fifth. Whatever that means. They don’t pay attention in history.)

\--------

Kirsch is practically giddy. Nothing makes a Zeta party better than a chance to protect your bros and throw down with the Summers, right? If that party was anything, it was an omen that they were going to crush those hotties tomorrow at the game. And then escaping cops? Dude, that is so badass. He will bet a million bucks that not even Theo had a cooler escape then him. All he has to do is make sure no one knows he called the cops, but they’ll never suspect him. He’s an inside man. Like Gollum, or that guy who took his name from a porno. But first, Kirsch thinks there’s something wrong with the beer, because he feels terrible. All he has to do is stay healthy for the game. After, he can puke his heart out.

\--------

Danny liked to sit on her roof after big moments, so that’s what she’s doing now, as the sun rises. Laura freakin’ Hollis. She rewinds the kiss in her head, the stars that had come suddenly to her eyes, the feeling of exhilaration. Now that was a kiss. She smiles, then starts laughing, the uncontrollable kind of laughter that only occurs when something wonderful and unexpected happens, something that you don’t quite have the vocabulary to describe. That’s how she feels now. Nothing can bring her down from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading! Again, I'm gonna try to post something every two weeks, we'll see if that happens.
> 
> I might work faster if people leave comments... Not like I'm begging or anything but just... Something to consider.


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